Love of Nations
by 95Jezzica
Summary: "France, the person, loved and still loves you with all of his heart. Don't ever doubt that. France loves you like a son. Not even I could pretend France never cared for you." o.o.o / A short One-Shot about PLATONIC love and the feelings Canada might have went through after he was handed over from France to England. Please enjoy!


o.o.o

England had just cleaned the first floor when he both saw and heard an annoyed America slam the front door shut and stomp into the hallway. If England hadn't stopped the young colony with a pointed _look_ America would most likely even have continued through the house without a care about taking off his ( _very!_ ) muddy shoes.

"Stop right there, young man. I didn't spend the last three hours cleaning this floor just so you could come and dirty it the second I'm done."

However America didn't seem to listen, and instead he just stomped the last steps to England and glared up with an annoyed huff.

"He's angry at me, but he refuses to tell me why!"

"Who?" England questioned in surprise.

He knew America wasn't very good at reading other people, so for the lad to actually have noticed it must have meant it was some serious anger.

"Canada!" America angrily huffed, again, and kicked off his shoes so they flew off and hit the wall next to the door.

England decided to ignore the resulting new splatter of mud on the wall in his previously clean hallway. For now.

"Why is he angry at you?"

"I don't know, he refused to tell me!"

"Alright, go up to your room. I'll talk to him and try to find out what's wrong."

America did what he was told, but of course that didn't mean he went quietly - England was pretty sure America's stomping one day might very well break the stairs.  
Soon enough England heard the door to America's and Canada's room slam shut though, and the house was left in a short but eerily silence.  
With a tired sigh England then put down the broom he had swept the floor with and walked out the front door. He needed to find Canada.

 **~ o ~**

Despite the lad's tendency to sometimes seem like he was invisible it was surprisingly easy to find Canada this time. Partly because the fairies told England where the lad was, but also because England and his boys currently were on the countryside just a little south of London, so England could even feel the rough location of Canada. Therefore it didn't take long before England found Canada curled up against a beautiful, thick and tall oak next to the nearby river. However to England's surprise he couldn't hear a sound from Canada - no angry words nor sobs - so when England reached Canada he wasn't sure what to expect. It almost felt like Canada was gone in his own head, so to make sure he didn't startle Canada too badly England therefore stepped on a few twigs on purpose, just to make some sound and let Canada know he was coming.

The weather was unusually warm and dry for this time of the spring, which briefly made England wonder where the mud from America's shoes could have come from, and although the leaves of the oak Canada leaned against hadn't fully bloomed yet the buds didn't look like they had a long time left before they would. It seemed like Canada had found a peaceful place to sit and be angry at, so without a word England sat down crosslegged next to Canada in the dry grass and waited for the lad to say something.

His long, sideway look at Canada's face showed the lad's many mixed emotions - mostly anger, sadness and grief - but Canada still didn't even turn his head from the river to look at England. When it became clear Canada wasn't going to say anything England eventually decided it was time to break the silence.

"Hello lad."

Canada jumped and turned to face England with wide eyes, and England realized with some worry the normally observant boy didn't seem to have heard him come or even noticed England sit down next to him until now.

"Mr. England! I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come."

"Obviously."

Normally England would have lectured Canada about how he should never let down his guard while he was alone,  
but then England reminded himself of why he searched for Canada in the first place and decided to leave it for another time.

"It's alright, Canada. I want to know what's wrong though. America said you were angry at him."

"Well, I'm not exactly angry at him," Canada mumbled and looked down at his feets while his cheeks began to turn a bright red, as if he was embarrassed.  
"He was annoying me, but I didn't mean to blow up at him the way I did. I just wanted him to leave me alone."

"Hm," England hummed. "Then who are you really angry at?"

He must have hit a sore spot, because there was no doubt Canada tensed at the question. England tried to think of if he recently had done anything particular himself to anger Canada, but he couldn't come up with anything which would explain this new anger. To make sure England would still have to ask though.

"Am I the one you're angry at?" England questioned, but Canada shook his head.

"Then who is it?"

Canada didn't reply immediately, but England stubbornly waited for it. It was rare for Canada to be angry at all, so England wanted an answer. Canada could become annoyed, sure, but true _anger_ was something England didn't think he had ever seen on the young boy's face before. Especially not this kind of anger which also was so obviously mixed with great sadness. Sure, Canada had only been with England for a few months, but England liked to think he knew Canada pretty well by now.

"Is it true?" Canada eventually quietly whispered and then wiped away an angry tear.  
"Is it true he chose those other colonies further south and didn't want to keep me? Did he really dismiss me as " _a few acres of snow_ " as if I don't mean anything to him at all?"

Ah, so this was about France. Perhaps England should have seen this coming, however England wasn't sure where Canada could have heard the details about the treaty of Paris.  
At least this told England what all of this was about.

With a sigh England picked up the now silently crying boy in his arms and placed Canada on his left leg. His arms never let go of Canada. To some extent it was true England loved to cause France pain - hundreds of years as enemies does that to you - but unlike what many other nations liked to think England wasn't a monster. It wasn't like England cared about the crying boy in his lap though, really! ( _or okay, perhaps just a tiny, tiny, little bit. Really, he only cared a little!_ ) but he couldn't just let Canada continue to think France didn't care about him. Of course it had nothing to do with feeling like his heart was slowly breaking at the sight of tears running down Canada's face. Really.

"Only partly," England replied truthfully with a sad smile.  
"However one of the most important things to remember about us nations is the fact we may represent our people, but we are also _our own persons._ We don't always agree with our bosses or people."

Canada tried to wipe away his tears. "What do you mean?"

"France's boss may have decided and said your land was just _"a few acres of snow"_ , but France - the person - did **_not_**. France may be a perverted, idiotic and snail-eating frog with a disgusting language I hate over all other languages combined, but... France, the person, loved and still loves you with all of his heart.  
Don't ever doubt that. France loves you like a son. Not even I could pretend France never cared for you."

"Really?"

"Yes. He loves you."

The both of them fell silent for a while after that, and England pretended to not hear nor see the sniffle after Canada wiped away his tears.

Being a nation could often be cruel - families were split apart or changed, wars started or ended and many nations grew up to hate parts of the world.  
All because humans were allowed to decide the fate of their nations and the colonies "belonging" to it. England wasn't sure why, but he was determined to make sure Canada didn't become one of those nations who grew up to hate - even if it meant he had to make sure the person Canada didn't grow to hate was the personification of France. Well, at least not for something France had no power over.

"I miss him," Canada quietly admitted.

"I know," England acknowledged in a whispered answer.

It was first an hour of silence and a now sleeping Canada later before England carefully stood up from the grass with Canada still in his arms, and began to carry Canada back to the house.

England was a nation, and Canada was one of his colonies, however humans were fools if they thought they could ever control their nations' feelings and that they always agreed with what their people did.  
So if the personification of France a month later just happened to receive a note with an anonymous tip about one of England's planned trips to town, and the personification of Canada just happened to be mentioned to be staying alone in the house for the day since America was forced to go with England... Well, England certainly didn't know anything about the anonymous tip.

Really.

He knew just as little about the tip as the personification of France knew about the small note left behind with Canada when the day was over, a note with only two words on it.

' _Thank you._ '

Because in the end England and France clearly didn't care about each other either. Really.

o.o.o

o.o.o. | **The End** | .o.o.o

o.o.o

 **This is a short One-Shot about England and Canada, with France being mentioned.** **I imagine this takes place a few months after the** Treaty of Paris **and** Seven Years War **has ended, while Canada still tries his best to deal with having been handed over from France to England.**

 **This One-Shot also explains one of my head-canons about nations and their people.**  
 **It should be clear when you read it which part it is, but if you have any questions - just ask. I hope you've enjoyed this! /Jezzica**


End file.
